Gemotions

He paced the living room, the Persian rug a familiar comfort beneath his feet. The words, "Just a small patch, Mr. Davis," echoed in his mind. He glanced out the window at the empty space beside his meticulously crafted rock garden. Why would she want to plant there? What did she really want? He rubbed his temples, a headache blossoming behind his eyes.

A sudden gust of wind rattled the window, making him jump. He checked the locks, then looked back at the lawn. The image of the woman's friendly face flashed in his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was about to lose control.